Caught in Amber
by Cryptic Ash
Summary: From the roarin' jazzy 20's, through the wars, and right into our modern times - love doesn't always come as easily to some as it does for others, and for some it never fades.
1. Chapter 1

Alrighty folks. This is my third USxLiet fanfiction. Not much to say right here, 'cept that I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you have the time, I love, LOVE feedback.

**Chapter One: Dishwashers and the Big Apple**

The inside of the third floor New York City apartment smelled like the strange pungency some elderly carried with them. A scent that lingered when it went into your nose and made you wonder whether it was their breath, body odor or something left to rot or mold in the numerous wrinkles that hung from their bodies. Toris wanted to hold his breath in, and he did for a few seconds. When he exhaled and expanded his lungs, the smell was still there.

"Not as bad as the boat," he reminded himself in Lithuanian as he moved towards an empty corner of the room to set his bags down. Dust rose up like fog as he dropped them and turned to look around. Four walls closely surrounded him and there was a window with a view of a street choked with people and cars; a rusted sink and a toilet across from him. He approached a sink and grabbed a hold of a well-rusted knob. Both Toris and the faucet groaned as the knob was forced to turn, his whole body weight into the action.

"Only got cold water in that," a voice in the hallway told him, and all he could see was the doorframe. "Hot water runs out at about 8 AM, so if you wanna take a shower, do it 'fore then. By the way, keep your room locked, 'less you wanna get your shit stolen."

"Uh, thank you," he told the empty doorway. With a furrowed brow he stepped back and closed the door as his gloved hands fumbled to find keys to secure the lock.

As it turned out, a locked door had not kept his bags from harm. The next day after he had gone out to search for work, he had returned to find the contents of his suitcases strewn about as if a massacre had taken place. Only one had remained closed, although he could see a long slash across its belly. Even Toris hadn't been able to open the damn thing; an issue which he'd spent about half the night before cursing over and was now quietly thanking God for. Although many of his few valuables were gone, tokens he had taken with him from his home country to ensure homesickness didn't accompany him to America. His necessities - money, primarily - were still trapped inside his apparently invincible suitcase."

It was ridiculous, he thought, to think of a suitcase as invincible. Yet every day that passed in an unsuccessful attempt to open it made him reconsider whether or not this was possible. He had some money in his pocket to reach potential jobs, but it was quickly running out and he needed to get what was inside of the bag _out._

Every day the suitcase refused to open Toris could feel an electric energy coursing the routes of his body. By the end of the week, he could feel it surge through every nerve and hair in and out of his body as his eyes burned with tears. "Please, please, please open-" he begged as he rattled it like a rag doll and then head butted the handle. "Don't you understand that unless I get work I can't eat and that no one will hire me because I'm too skinny, but without money I can't eat to get fat and all of my money is inside of you so I can't get fat enough to get work…"

The suitcase remained apathetic, and the only thing that kept its guts inside was the fact Toris' pocket knife was not strong enough to saw through its stomach. Just as he began to feel honestly ill, he found work. For most of the day and a good portion of the night, he washed dishes in the back of a diner. American jazz poured through the restaurant as he scrubbed and rinsed chipped plastic cups, plates and cheap metal silverware over a hot and humid sink. Without any money to spare for anything but the bus, Toris ate two meals a day at the diner when business lulled. The fat on the hamburgers and oily French fries gave him stomach trouble, but he began to gain weight, despite the lengthy hours he spent stuffed in the backroom and making the lengthy walk to his apartment.

At "home," there was no mattress or furniture, so he used his scratchy cotton overcoat as a blanket and the shirts ripped from the robbery as a pillow. At night he could hear scratching in the floor and walls, laughter, screams or the sounds of feet thumping through the streets or through the halls. His internal clock woke him at 5 AM, and he pinned a sheet he'd found over the window while he bathed in the sink. He had no idea when the hot water ran out, only that it was gone by the time he came home at some odd hour of midnight.

On the second week of work he received his first paycheck and used it to buy a blanket, soap, paper and pencil. Toris sat on his still sealed suitcase and carefully spread the paper out across his leg.

_Dear Felix,_

_I've arrived in America. My apartment was broken into, there is no shower, so I bathe in the sink. I have a job now. It's not as glamorous as wearing armor, but the heat is about the same. Hope things are going well with you, and_

"I don't know what to write." He muttered, eyes on the paper. It was as though the white were an eye of its own, gaze burning and unnerving. What little he'd written sat atop it like a ship, a ship floating on an endless abyss of cold, lifeless waters.

After half an hour of rubbing his aching feet and staring at the letter, Toris tucked it under his suitcase and opted for sleep. He rose the next morning and went to work as usual, which was just as usual as it always was. There was one difference, however, and that was a waitress- a teenage girl well below his age (not in looks) and fatter than he was (not to say she was chubby, he was just so thin he could feel his cheekbones right beneath his skin)- attempted to talk to him. He smiled with her and pretended not to understand her English. Eventually she gave up when the manager summoned her, and once she was gone guilt settled over him. He muttered to his dishes that he had forgotten his manners in his homeland.

At the end of his long shift, Toris volunteered to stay behind to help close by mopping, even though his feet felt as though they were bleeding. He half expected to see his own bloody footprints across the areas he just mopped. Quietly he hummed to the music which accompanied him as he scrubbed the floor, a bit of extra time spent on black scuff marks.

_I can't sleep at night__  
><em>_I can't eat a bite__  
><em>_'Cause the man I love,__  
><em>_He don't treat me right__  
><em>_He makes me feel so blue_

The bell attached to the door sounded. He glanced over his shoulder but didn't stop, and his manager didn't give the guest one look before he stated: "We're closed, pal. Open up tomorrow at 10 AM sharp, come then."

_I don't know what to do_

"That's alright, I ain't here for food." A man replied, a smile in his voice.

_Sometime I sit and sigh__  
><em>_And then begin to cry_

"So," the man started with a small chuckle. "You're Toris?"

Toris' body and mind stopped, mop still in his grip, before he stood upright and turned around. There was a man, tall, blond, blue-eyed and broad shouldered, wearing a suit, tie, hat, glasses and a smile. The strong but soft features of the other's face were unmistakable.

"A- America?"

"Sorry, his English is a little wonky." The manager answered for him as he wiped the counter he now looked over.

_'Cause my best friend__  
><em>_Said his last goodbye__  
><em>_There's a change in the ocean_

"That's alright," Alfred nodded as he picked his hat off. "Call me Jones or Alfred, okidoki?"

"Um, Mr- Mr. Jones," Toris corrected quickly as he straightened up even more, mop held up against his chest like one of his old shields. "Wh-what can I- what can I do for you?"

_Change in the deep blue sea, my baby__  
><em>_I'll tell you folks, there ain't no change in me_

"Nothin' much, Arthur told me you were here and I figured I may as well come over and say hello. Say, when do you get off?"

"About, um, about- about ten minutes."

"How 'bout I wait for you outside 'til you're done then?" Alfred nodded again as he took a few steps backwards. "Take your time."

Of course he didn't take his time. It wasn't every day that a nation went to meet another nation, unless it was for political purposes, and it was even rarer for a super power to pay attention to someone like little old Lithuania doing dishes at the back of one his diners.

_My love for that man will always be__  
><em>_Now I can read his letters__  
><em>_I sure can't read his mind__  
><em>_I thought he's lovin' me__  
><em>_He's leavin' all the time__  
><em>_Now I see my poor love was blind__  
><em>_Now I got the crazy blues since my baby went away__  
><em>_I ain't got no time to lose__  
><em>_I must find him today__  
><em>_Now the doctor's gonna do all that he can__  
><em>_But what you're gonna need is an undertaker man__  
><em>_I ain't had nothin' but bad news__  
><em>_Now I got the crazy blues_

At the last line, Toris had finished mopping the rest of the floor. He scanned the neat tiles to be sure he hadn't done a sloppy job before he put the mop away and threw out the stormy raincloud water. His manager waved him off as Toris went out the door, one hand pulling a string of his apron.

America greeted him as he pulled the apron over his head and threw it over his arm. The two shook hands, Lithuania self-conscious of how cold and moist his hands were, before the other let go and stepped to the side. Three full seconds later Toris began to walk, arm still out with the apron on it as though he were a butler ready to serve.

"So, how's New York been treating you?"

"Oh, um, fine." Toris smiled and felt his stomach ache as laughter bubbled out of it. "I hope you don't mind my being here."

"Not at all, not at all." Alfred waved his hand in front of his face, and Toris wondered if he smelled the diner's greasy food or soap. Toris' feet led them to the bus stop. As the pair stood together, the city far from drowsy, Alfred made idle conversation and asked a few questions that Toris responded to as politely and clearly as he could. The bus rattled over twenty minutes later, and when they climbed on they took seats in the back, where it was empty enough for them to talk quietly without risk of being overheard.

"Do you have a, ah, hotel?" Toris asked when the seat and floor rattled as the bus began to lurch forward.

"Nope. Went to your apartment first," _oh god now he knows where I live and it's filthy-_ "and your apartment person- manager- told me where you worked, so I hopped on a bus and came over."

"Oh." God save him. "Would it be alright to ask why?"

"Like I said, I like coming over to see countries when they come over to visit me. Although working is a little different- actually, well- I came over for something else, too. If you wanted, you could come work for me instead of that burger joint."

Toris turned to look fully at Alfred and blinked a few times. "Work- work for you?"

"Yep. It wouldn't be very manly work or anything like that, more like house cleaning and stuff. Arthur told me you were in a bad spot with money and I need help around the house, so I figured I may as well come over and offer you work. You'd have your own room and start out with about $150 a month, have to do things like clean, do the dishes, cook, stuff like that. I've tried to find other help but they're not careful enough with some of my artifacts, and eventually I have to fire them when this doesn't change," he circled his face with a finger. "So when Arthur called me I thought it'd be a good idea to come over and see if you wanted the job. Wouldn't have to worry about firing you after a few years and I'm sure you'll be more careful with the more precious things in the house. Plus it's generally just good manners to come over and say 'hallo' to your guests."

Both men leaned left when the bus turned and droplets tapped the windows. Alfred picked his glasses off his face and began to wipe them with a blue cloth he produced from an inside pocket in his suit. He turned his head to Toris, who sat straight, hands on his lap and eyes only halfway focused on the other's face. As the brakes on the bus squealed, Toris blinked. As he studied his features he wondered why America looked a few years older than he did, even though Lithuania was hundreds of years older than him. Alfred also studied Toris' face, skin pale and stretched too tight on what was supposed to be a young man's face. He sniffled as he thought about how the inside of the bus smelled like cow piss.

"If you're not joking," Toris' chest expanded as he squeezed his hands on his lap. "I would… love to."

Alfred smiled, one that caused a glimmer to show even through the lens of his glasses as he slipped them back on. "Alrightie then. When would you like to start?"


	2. Oyster Bay

**Chapter Two: Oyster Bay**

The car squealed as Lithuania dropped his luggage into the trunk of the beetle black car. Alfred gave the other a smile and a nod before he gripped the top and slammed it down. Lithuania stood there for a while until Alfred waved him over to the front seat. Just like that Toris moved over, like a leaf brushed over by a sudden breeze.

As he climbed into the driver's seat, Alfred couldn't help but feel relieved to get out of New York- as much as he loved the Big Apple, there were things he had to attend to and Lithuania's tiny apartment had disturbed him a bit. Not that he would ever admit it, at least not to his new employee. The faster he drove away from the dungeon of a building that stared at them from behind, the better.

The car grumbled to a start and then began to pull out of the lot and into the street. As they sped off Alfred could feel the eyes of the apartment complex watching him, their hollow shells absorbing his image and the car. The people who leaned out for some air even looked like maggots wriggling out of a rotten apple. He swore to his beautiful lady liberty that he heard ghosts' nails trying to dig him a grave in the floors last night.

As they began to leave the city Alfred tried not to think about how Lithuania looked a bit like a zombie or some spirit from the other world. Even though countries were supposed to stop physically aging at some point around their early 20's, (thank god, Alfred couldn't imagine how horrible it would be if England actually looked like an old man) Toris was so pale and thin that he looked like a dead body left in the ground just long enough to start sink in on itself and lose any color other than "crap I'm dead" white.

They escaped the city almost an hour later. The rest of the drive was a mixture of towns and a whole bunch of green. Alfred liked to think that his surroundings looked like a salad. People called America a mixing pot, but out here there was nothing but green and humidity that summoned flies out from the depths of Hell. But even in this summer heat the mosquitoes couldn't reach him in his car. This baby could go up to a whole 30 MPH, and he couldn't help but smile to himself as the background whizzed by in a blissful blur.

Three hours later, Alfred didn't realize his passenger found the ride far less exciting (in a happy way) until they were parked in his driveway. When he turned to announce they were there, all he could see was Lithuania's face and the indents his fingers were leaving on the seat from gripping so hard. He would not describe the other's expression as pure horror, but- well, no, that was actually pretty accurate. He looked like that cat Alfred had thrown a bucket of water on in his youth, except without any intense waves of murderous hatred.

When asked if he was alright, Toris nodded slowly and dragged his fingers across the seat. They shook as he reached to pull himself out. "Uh, are you sure you're fine?"

"V-v-very, very f-fine." Lithuania's legs nearly buckled as his shoes touched grass. "I-I, I-I… never… c-car."

"…You've never ridden in a car before?"

His hair swung out as he shook his head. "I heard-d they, that they had, they had them i-in England, but i-i-in, in Lithuania, we ne-never. I-I never."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry." He didn't know what he was apologizing for. Alfred sucked his lips in before he got out and rounded to the back of the trunk. He beat Toris by just a few steps. "Here, lemme get this for you."

The pair stopped just before the steps up to the front door. "Home sweet home," Alfred grinned. "Oyster Bay, Long Beach. Good thing you went to the Big Apple, 'cause otherwise it would've taken forever to pick you up. Just lemme grab my keys and we'll be in, okay?"

Toris was left at the door for half a minute when Alfred couldn't find his house keys and had to run back to the car to find them. He grabbed them from the front seat and skipped up the steps to unlock the door.

The inside of the house managed to soothe some of Toris' jitters. The outside of the house looked beautiful, but the inside was outright… gorgeous. After Toris stepped inside he paused to just observe.

The living room was wide, with wood floors and faded blue wallpaper. In it was a brown fat-cushioned couch with a wooden table in front of it, and on an end wood table was a silent radio. There was a mirror on one wall, along with a painting of some rolling hills he did not recognize and a black and white photograph of some people he didn't recognize, either. The kitchen had white tiles and a gas stove and oven. The cabinets were also made of wood with silver handles, and the sink was an off-white, the sort of color snow became after it had a few days to collect dirt and whatever else nature threw on the top of it.

Upstairs (the staircase was wood beneath its coat of white paint, and looked hand carved) there were two rooms and two bathrooms, one of which was Mr. America's. Toris' host cautiously skipped that room and went to the bathroom. The bathroom was decked in the same white tile as the kitchen, and a porcelain lined tub that had cast iron foot claws and faucet dominated the end of the bathroom. The sink was the same, with a clean square shaped mirror. Even the toilet looked spotless, and Toris couldn't bring himself to take a step inside the pristine bathroom as Alfred gestured in the middle of it.

Next was the guest bedroom, now Toris'. It had wood paneling like the rest of the house, though the wallpaper was green instead of blue. There was a twin sized mattress with a bed frame; a wooden dresser and a mirror on the wall were the only furnishings. Toris set his luggage down beside the bed and turned his head to inspect his new living space. Without looking he pressed a hand to the comforter and took slow steps over to the window. It was glass and was framed by dark green curtains, which felt even softer than the coat he had on his shoulders.

Toris' feet did not properly record the feel of the floor as he followed Mr. America down the stairs. The tour finished with America showing Toris a room cluttered with things, dust and cobwebs and requesting that Toris did not clean or organize anything inside of it. Its contents looked old and out of date, so Toris could guess that the room was storage for America's artifacts, likely some of the ones he had been concerned about his old human servants handling.

The tour finished at the kitchen table, where America insisted Toris sit while he prepared tea. He was out of coffee, he said, and added with a laugh that "I totally dumped all of England's tea in the harbor once, just to piss him off."

When the tea was gone along with any ideas for conversation, America excused himself and told Toris he could take a look at his room again and unpack. Toris took his suggestion (he would be out of place in any other space of the house) and went upstairs to "his" room. Within twenty minutes he had all of the contents of one suitcase tucked inside the drawers. A photograph of himself and Felix was set on top of his dresser, and another picture of a blurred crowd of his people in Vilnius was tucked between the face and frame of the mirror. It was his old capital, even if Felix was trying to take it from him. Even now Toris could feel the back and forth pull in his heart between Vilnius and his new capital Kaunas. Apparently the entirety of the Atlantic Ocean could not stop the tug of war.

His other suitcase kept its lips clenched. After everything it had been through between the ship and robbery Toris decided it couldn't even trust its own master anymore, and he sympathized with it as he put it into his closet. Since he had no idea what to do with himself, he spent the noon, afternoon and the beginning of the evening trying to make a rut in the floor around his bed. _Wooden_ floors.

He didn't even realize the reason he had a stomach ache may have been because he hadn't eaten all day until Mr. America called him down for dinner. Saliva began to moisten the inside of his dry mouth the moment he smelled cooked meat. When he entered the room, his new employer was setting cups on the table. With a smile, the taller nation asked: "Have you ever had meatloaf?"

All throughout dinner the man across the table fought off any awkward silences with his perpetual talk. Mr. America explained why he had chosen to live in Oyster Bay. He had picked the location because one of his presidents had lived nearby, and even though they had died just a little over a year ago, America stayed because he enjoyed the location so much.

Toris nodded to every other sentence while he admonished himself for not asking where America had lived before they had driven away. As Toris' stomach began to churn like there was a little woman beating dirty laundry inside of it, he couldn't help but notice at how… unreal America seemed. Despite the animated gestures, the energy of his voice and the brightness of his ripe blueberry eyes, he was not **real**_._ It was as though Toris had eaten dinner with an opaque ghost, an eidolon.

When Toris' eyes opened next he was inside the guest bedroom, blanketed with dark. He could see a faint shine of light over the horizon through his window, a promise that if he ever neglected to close the curtains, the sun would glow straight through the illuminated glass and into his face. He stared at it, his surroundings entirely unfamiliar. It took him half a minute to replay what had happened yesterday and another half to realize he could not remember the last part of dinner. He pushed down into the mattress and admired the way it did not squeal.

The sun had barely begun to crawl above the trees when America was out the door. He took the simple breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast with him to the car and didn't notice the way Toris stared at him for what Toris considered to be bad manners.


End file.
